Come Back To Bed
by Deirdra098
Summary: A short little one-shot with an established Tiva relationship.


**A/N: ****Just a short little Tiva fic – I'm the only one who has read it over, I did my best to catch all errors. It was inspired by John Mayer's song of the same name (Come Back To Bed). I don't own the song or the characters or to show, unfortunately. I appreciate hearing opinions, but either way, I hope you enjoy it.**

The room was veiled with darkness, save for the slits of moonlight that snuck through the blinds. Tony stretched and propped himself up on his elbows before looking around. Her room was neat as usual, save for the few pieces of haphazardly discarded clothing. He thought back to the way her old apartment looked, and while her new one was starker, she had begun to fill it up with personal items and mementoes.

A stack of U.S. history books sat on her bedside table. Tony noticed that the framed pictures of the team that Abby had given her had even made it into her bedroom– including a picture of Tony making a face. He would have smiled had her side of the bed not been cold, and the sound of her footsteps down the hall hadn't been so loud in the deafening silence of the apartment.

He had retraced the events of the night over and over again in his head, like he was trying to figure out what happened to lead to a gruesome crime scene. They had gotten off work. Tony had gone home before driving over to Ziva's apartment. She made dinner, he provided the movie. They ended up stripping off their clothes before the movie got to the best part – not that he was complaining in any way. They had been talking, their legs entangled, touching each other, and kissing each other. Then he said… something so typically… Tony and she pulled away from him, turned her back to him, and for a little while, the thought she was asleep. He was almost asleep, too…

Until he heard her crying.

It was something so uncharacteristically Ziva that his heart almost stopped. She rarely ever had tears in her eyes, and when she cried, it meant that something was seriously wrong.

So he reached his arm out to touch her back, to comfort her, and her damn ninja skills kicked in and she was out of her bed like a flash, and soon he heard her footsteps down the hall. And then he heard her pacing.

She only ran away when something was on her mind, when she felt her emotions kicking in, when she felt like she wasn't in control.

Tony couldn't even remember what he said and he was kicking himself for it.

He reached his arm out to her side of the bed, the sheets were cold, like she hadn't even been there in the first place, and he sighed. He wished that she would come back to bed, sleep for a little while, and then they could fight in the morning. She could not talk to him all day long if she wanted to, it would be better than this. He hated being in her bed alone. He hated that he had somehow hurt her, and she had run away.

The footsteps in the hall stopped, and he heard the scrape of a chair in the kitchen before all sound in the apartment ceased.

Tony felt the cold air on his arms as he sat up further, squinting his eyes, trying to locate his shirt in the room. From where he was, he couldn't find it. Well if he had to brave the cold in his boxers to get the woman back in bed, he would do it.

He walked down the hall slowly so she would know he was coming – there was less of a chance that she'd hurt him if he didn't spook her.

His feet hit the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor and his eyes began to adjust to the darkness. Ziva was sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, his shirt covering her torso, and not much else.

"Hey," he said quietly. She looked him from beneath her tangled curls before her eyes flicked back down to the table. He shivered, but couldn't pinpoint whether it was because of her icy disposition or the unreasonable cold of the apartment. "Nice night, huh?" He tried to joke, earning himself a glare.

He sighed, and sat down in the chair next to her. He thought it was a good sign when she didn't move further away from him. He opened his mouth to say that she was being stubborn, that fighting with him in the middle of the night wasn't going to fix anything, and that they were both going to be tired in the morning. He settled to ask her if she wanted a glass of water.

"No."

At least it was a response, he reasoned.

"What are we doing?"

"What do you mean, Tony?"

"We're sitting at your kitchen table at two in the morning when we both need to be up and functioning for work tomorrow."

"You can go to sleep."

"You're not tired?"

"I have gotten by on much less sleep before."

He groaned in frustration, "Listen – I'm sorry for whatever I said. I'm sorry for whatever I did. I didn't meant to make you cry."

She looked away from him.

"Ziva, I don't even know what I said, but I'll take it back – anything."

More silence.

"Can you please just be mad at me in the morning or afternoon? It's not like we're going to figure this out talking right now… it's not like you're quick to forgive."

Her eyes snapped back to him, narrowed.

"I'm a goddamn idiot," he stated, hitting his head on the table.

"Tony," she ventured, and he looked up quickly, waiting for her to say more.

She didn't.

Tony felt frustration rising up in his gut – a mixture of exhaustion and heartache. "You're killing me, Ziva David. You can't keep doing this to me – pushing me and pulling me this way and that way. This is the third time this month that you've completely shut down on me – and yes, I should watch what I say, but we both know that I have trouble with that, and it's been a stressful week, and I can't sleep in _your_ bed without _you_."

She thought about it for a moment. "You could if you were tired enough," she said obstinately.

"That's not the point!" He got up, the chair making an awful raking noise against the floor. He knew that he shouldn't be pushing her, it only made her pull away more, but he didn't know what else to do. He took a deep, shaky breath. "Ziva, please, come on, come back to bed. I'm not asking you to forgive me tonight. Please, just be mad in the morning."

She stood up, impressed when Tony's eyes did not dart to her almost fully exposed legs, but remained locked on her eyes. She saw the hurt and sleeplessness in his eyes. She took the few steps toward him, her arm grazing his side as she took his hand and lead him back into the bedroom.

They got into bed, and she snuggled into his warm arms as he kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Maybe tomorrow," she suggested, her eyes closing and her hand finding its way to his chest.

Tony closed his eyes, pulled her closer. Just as he was almost asleep he thought he heard her whisper something short starting with "I" and ending in "you" – he smiled. Tomorrow.


End file.
